Objective: (Bloodlines Book 2) (25 page)

“Marry me,” I say seriously.

“What?!” she chuckles.

“I’m serious, Mags. Marry me.” I back up from her just slightly. I reach into the pocket of my pants and pull out the engagement ring I bought for her over a year ago, the ring I watched her throw into the neighboring trailer’s yard and the ring I’d spent an hour trying to recover. I bring it up between us and drop to one knee. “Magnolia Ash, I have never been able to love anyone the way I love you. I will never be able to be as good as I am right now with anyone else. You’re my soul, baby, you own me.” Her eyes soften and fill with tears. “There’s so much static in the world...people vying for attention, noises, voices, they all get in the way in here.” I knock on my head. “When I see you, when I’m with you - all that noise fades away. I can breathe. I can just be.” I reach for her left hand and hold the ring to the end of her ring finger. “Say something,” I plead. She drops to her knees so we’re face to face and looks deep into my eyes, searching for something. It kills me to see her this confused and unsure. She presses her lips to mine softly before looking down where my hand still holds hers.

“Yes,” she whispers. Cheers erupt around us. I move my gaze around us to find a rather large crowd looking on. I slide the ring onto her finger and kiss it before crouching on my heels and scooping her up into my arms. “She said yes!” I
bellow, swinging her around. The thought of Magnolia and me spending eternity together makes my chest swell and my stomach flop. There has never been a more perfect moment than this one. She smiles a radiant smile at me that melts my heart all over again before she takes my face between her hands and kisses the shit out of me. So sweet. I could live a thousand lives if I got to see that smile every day.

The concert at the park was actually pretty good. The band rocked some old eighties tunes that we both knew and loved. To be honest I felt drunk with happiness the rest of the evening. We drank. We ate. We had some of the best damn chocolate-covered potato chips I’ve ever encountered and then we happily made our way back to the hotel.

Her lips come together in a sexy little pout as I pull my mouth away from her swollen clit. “Ugh, Cane, don’t stop now!” she whines. I crawl back up her body, taking my time. Kissing and nipping every crease, line and patch of skin I pass, memorizing the taste of her, the feel of her under me. Her skin's hot and flushed. Her breath is light and shallow and it gives me great pleasure to do these intimate things to her. It’s the most amazing feeling in the world, knowing that I’m the only man she’s been with. That she's mine. I nip at her bottom lip playfully before reaching between us and guiding myself into her. A rush of hot, damp breath rushes out of her followed by a low raspy groan of satisfaction. I watch all the emotions and expressions her face holds. “Eyes,” I grunt, picking up my pace. Her eyes snap open and lazily focus on my face. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she wheezes out, her eyes still glazed over with pleasure. Hearing her say it out loud makes my stomach flip and my dick twitch. Without breaking her gaze I fuck her harder until we’re both a puddle of body parts resting on the hotel bed. Her fingers trace shapes up and down my arm until the city lights catch on her ring. She pulls her hand up to the light coming through the blinds.

“It’s perfect,” she mumbles, admiring it.

“It should be. You picked it out,” I chortle.

“I did not. I had no idea you were going to propose!” she squeaks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“It was on a flyer that came to the house. You ooohhed and awweeed over it for like, thirty solid minutes.” I chuckle at her. “I picked it up the next week.” Her eyes bug out slightly before a giant shit-eating grin appears on her face.

“You know, for a badass you’re
kinda all hearts and flowers,” she muses. And she’s right. Not that I’d admit that to anyone ever but whenever she’s near, I’m a giant pile of sap and mush.

I wake long before Mags does but I don’t wake her. She looks peaceful and content in a way that seems elusive to her when she's awake. The past fifteen months I tried so hard to hate her. To find that rage and keep it close. But I still woke up every morning loving her. I trace her soft lips with the tip of my finger. Silky smooth. I want to bottle this feeling up so I can use it again later when I might need it. This game of escaping reality won’t last long enough for us. For me anyways.

She stirs slightly and I kiss the tip of her nose. A grin plays at her lips and she rolls into
me, wrapping her arms around my torso and nuzzling into my chest. “You ready to pack up?” I ask, kissing her head. Her fingers toy over the scar on my pectoral. The scar she gave me.

“Yeah. I think you’ll like Blacksburg. It’s nice there,” she says wistfully.

Chapter 18

Blacksburg is nestled in the Blue Ridge and Alleghany Mountains in the New River Valley and blissfully far off the grid. Main Street, which has numerous bars, restaurants, and shops, seems to be hopping tonight with college students. It makes my chest tighten at all the things she should have had. All the normal experiences that somehow, simply by knowing me, have been taken away from her. Maybe she took online classes this last year or maybe she attended an actual school in Arkansas somewhere. I hope she did.

“The main drag is only about six blocks long, so it makes for an easy stroll if you want to check it out,” she says, eyes sparkling vibrantly. It’s hard not to feel what she feels when she's animated like this.

“You really like it
here, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs.

“When were you here?”

“Oh, after.” She pauses. “I got my tattoo here. There actually.” She points across the street to Bloodlines Tattoo Parlor. It’s five p.m. and it already looks like they’ve closed up for the day. Her eyes are warm and a contented grin plays on her face. “It’s too bad they’re closed. I’d like to
meet the dude who did your piece.”

“It wasn’t a dude!” she laughs.

“Oh?”

“
Geez, Cane, you make it sound like girls can’t be good at much,” she teases, raising an eyebrow at me. I sigh and scratch my head because let’s face it, no reply will be the right one at this point. Silence is golden.

“So what did you want to do tonight?” I hurry to change the subject.

“Well...” she says sheepishly. “I might have already planned our evening.” She clasps her hands together with excitement.

“Lay it on
me,” I chuckle. She was always taking control of our social life before so this show of her Type A personality doesn't surprise me.

“Okay, so there is this ice cream shop down the street and we are definitely hitting that up, and then I thought we could grab a drink at the bar I visited while I was here before going to the
Starlite. It’s a drive-in!!” she gushes. Her eyes are bright and her movements are animated. It’s as if she feels at home here. It’s a hell of a lot better than the guarded, hard version of herself that’s been rearing its ugly head.

“Where to
first, then?” I ask.

“
Uhh, ice cream of course!” she squeaks. I can’t stop the smile that creeps up my face. She’s so damned adorable. We walk hand in hand to The Parlor. It’s set up to look like it’s straight out the fifties. A retro wet dream. It’s definitely not my bag of chips but she seems to be in heaven right now. The bell chimes as we walk through the door into retroland. She tugs me towards an open booth near the front window.

She tosses me a menu from behind the napkin stand and immediately opens hers without hesitation. Dessert. Gets her every time. Her nose wrinkles up as she looks over certain items. I can almost predict which ones those are, too. She hates fruit in her dessert. She says that if she wanted fruit she would eat it, but dessert is supposed to be gluttonous. Nuts are the number two offender. She doesn't like nuts in her desserts. That one I don’t understand, never have.

“You two kids have an idea of what you want?” A tall lanky guy who is definitely not older than us holds his pad waiting to take our order. Johnny, according the name tag, looks like a rockabilly punk, complete with checkered skinny pants, a chain hanging from one pocket to his belt loop and slicked back hair like a greaser.
“Well?” he prompts again.

“Uh, we need a
couple, I guess,” I answer for us. He cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows at Mags.

“Yeah, he needs a
minute, I guess.”

“Your gal here knows what she wants. You sure you
wanna keep her waiting?” he smirks.

“Go
ahead, Mags, I'll figure something out on the fly,” I answer, feeling pressured by this punk.

“I'll have the Hunk-a-
chunka PB Fudge sundae with extra peanut butter sauce,” Mags says proudly, beaming at the guy.

“Excellent combination of flavors,
Cat,” Johnny winks.
Cat
?

“Am I missing something here?” I interject. I swear they are communicating on some level I’m not privy too.

“No need to get frosted, Daddy-O. You’re gal here is one fine ice cream sundae creator.” Daddy-O? Sundae creator? What the hell is he talking about? Magnolia beams but her shoulders give her away. She shakes gently, eyes sparkling with challenge and humor.

“I'll have a banana split,” I order. Johnny writes down my order and shoots Magnolia a shrug and a look of disappointment, like I’m a total square or something. When he’s a safe distance away her laughter bellows out of her and her forehead hits the table as she doubles over.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, slightly irritated at being picked on.

“OH MY SHIT! That was hilarious!” she laughs heartily.

“Really?” I squawk at her.

“Cane, seriously,” she
snorts, and slaps a hand over her mouth and nose. “Yes. I mean, you were so out of your league. You should have let me order for you.”

“There is something very,
very
wrong with you dessert people.”

“Dessert people?” she says laughing even harder.”

“Yeah and don’t try to tell me that’s not a thing. You are one,” I accuse, smiling.
Johnny saunters up, tray in hand, and sets Magnolia's tall ice cream glass in front of her with a wink. He turns to me and sets down an oblong dish with a huge banana split mounded with whipped cream in front of me. “Sir,” he says dramatically. I roll my eyes as he leaves and shake my head at the monstrosity in front of me.

“
Well, crap,” I mumble. Mags snickers and points the menu on the table. The Parlor’s Epic Banana Split is the ultimate dessert for the ice cream crowd. Serves 4-6. Of course I didn’t read the menu.

“Well, looks like I’m eating for four,” I quip over Magnolia’s moans of pleasure.
 

It took me a trip to the bathroom and a forty-five minute walk around town with Magnolia to shake off the effects of the Epic Banana Split, but hell, I’d finished the whole damn thing just to prove a point to the two twits named Johnny and Magnolia. The last two bites I was sure I was going to up chuck all over the table but I’d managed to keep it together until the bill came. I’d had to leave it with
Mags so I could run to the bathroom. Johnny had patted me on the back as we headed out and Magnolia didn’t stop laughing for a solid twenty minutes. Not that I’m complaining. Her laugh could cure cancer, I’m sure of it.

The London Underground is a dark long narrow bar with hightop tables lining one wall and a strange menu, including things like Crawdad and Chips. We discussed trying it but both chickened out. The music is low like the lights and the bar is lined with patrons. Magnolia snagged us a table back near the restrooms where the only foot traffic is from the people needing the bathroom. It’s nice having a beer with her alone, just chatting about nothing and people watching.

“Truth or lie?” she asks randomly.

“Uh, I dunno. Lie,” I shrug going along with her game. I watch as she thinks of something, her expressions changing with her thoughts.

“Family,” she says finally.

“Okay, what am I supposed to do?”

“Well, you have a topic...I guess I should have given you the topic first and then let you pick truth or lie. Anyhow, now you have to tell the truth about it...you know like...sex! Sex lie would be that it’s all hot and sexy and whatever, but really its sticky and loud, or something like that. So tell me how family is - the lie version.” I instantly am over this game. Her version of family and mine were always one hundred and eighty degrees from each other. I sigh and massage my brow line.

“Family, okay...the lie. Family supports you and loves you no matter what. They are your life line, you can trust them with anything. They always come through for you and you’d be lucky to know them because they are all little pieces of you.” I can tell she doesn't like my answer, simply because her eyes get sad and her lips frown at me. It’s like she’s looking through me though, searching for something.

“Truth or lie,
Mags.” I ask.

“Truth,” she answers.

“Life.”